Chapter 1
Ten days before summer ended, and I couldn’t say I did much worth bragging about. The first three weeks, Wren and I went to stay with Grammy in Ohio which, honestly, turned out to be the best part of the whole break.
Grammy’s house always smelled faintly of cinnamon, with a backyard that felt like time just… stopped. No loud cars, no alarms, just iced tea, peace… and Wren.
She’s seventy or maybe sixty-seven but you could never tell because she’s all energy, the kind of person who dances around the kitchen in socks while singing off-key and still manages to pull off these little magic tricks that make Wren’s eyes go wide.
We baked pies and shared them with Grammy’s book club ladies—well, not after Wren had eaten most of everything.
I like being around old people. They talk slower and softer, like they’re not in a race with life anymore. It’s calming. Peaceful in a way the world usually isn’t.
Wren, of course, thought it was “too quiet.” She couldn’t sit still for five minutes. She kept saying maybe I was a reincarnated old lady from my past life, because, and I quote, “you act like you belong in a knitting club, Nancy.” I told her maybe I did. Maybe that’s why I liked it there.
Wren’s only consolation about leaving Grammy’s was the town’s summer festival three days before we left. She buzzed about it nonstop, dragging me from funnel cakes to ring tosses, hugging a tiny stuffed rabbit like it was treasure, and squealing at the fireworks with her cheeks flushed.
Watching her, I thought maybe she had a point. Maybe I was a little old lady trapped in a teenager’s body—because here I am, staring at myself in the mirror, preparing for MJ’s birthday party. My long brown hair’s tied back in a low ponytail.
It wasn’t exactly screaming “party ready,” but then again, I wasn’t the kind of girl who screamed anything. I wasn’t even wearing a dress, just blue jeans and a white crop top.
Still, I gave myself a twirl before leaving. Not because it would change a damn thing, but because I felt… good.
And yeah, okay, I just wanted to twirl. That’s it.
MJ had been talking about her birthday since forever. Everything had to be perfect.
Perfect outfits, obviously.
Perfect decorations, because apparently balloons come in wrong shades of pink.
Those bloody glittering shoes she had to order from New York because, God forbid, the local mall didn’t have the exact white pair she wanted.
The Perfect playlist.
And, of course, the seven-inch sparkling cake.
My stomach flutters with a mix of excitement and nerves as I step into MJ’s backyard, and the first thing I see are the balloons and streamers, all bright and screaming MJ. Music thumps from the speakers a mix of pop and old-school hits with laughter bouncing off the walls. I squeeze my way between bodies, perfumes, and more bodies.
Okay, how many people did she even invite? The last time I checked the list, it’s supposed to be around fifty people. I swear it feels like hundreds.
I finally manage to break free and slip inside the Jacks’ Victorian mansion. Beautiful doesn’t even cover it, it’s straight-up magnificent, like something out of a medieval movie. I’ve always loved coming here when I was younger… still do.
The whole place glows in color. The chandelier above spills pink and blue lights over everyone, turning faces into soft blurs of movement. Balloons float lazily against the ceiling, ribbons brushing people’s heads. The air hums with the faint, sugary scent of cake and perfume. Everywhere I look, something’s happening. A few girls I recognise from school in sparkly dresses are taking selfies near a giant “SWEET SIXTEEN” balloon arch.
And me? I tug at my jeans, my fingers brushing the cool metal button just to keep my hands busy. For a second, I wonder if I stand out too much or maybe not enough. Either way, I can’t help but think. MJ really did it this time. She practically turned her parents mansion into a nightclub.
There aren’t as many people inside, but then I spot Asher Lively leaning over a chair, a bottle of beer in hand. Didn’t he graduate last year? And right next to him—rocking a basketball varsity jersey—is Rocky Chen. Another Primrock High alum. They aren’t supposed to be here. None of them are even on the list. That girl invited college students? Seriously?
And then, through the crowd, I spot her—MJ. Glowing in the spotlight. Her red hair curls perfectly, bouncing as she laughs with a group of seniors who look way too obsessed with her. She’s wearing that short shimmery pink dress that hugs her perfect body, which she swore she wouldn’t wear because it’s “extra.” Yeah, right. MJ and “extra” are basically synonyms. With a capital E.
She catches my eye from across the room and grins.
“Nancy! You actually made it!” she shouts over the music and runs toward me. I hug her and catch a whiff of her perfume, jasmine and pine.
“Actually made it?” I pull back.
“ Seriously, you've been in my face all week
We went cake tasting, drinks sampling, outfit approvals. I’ve heard ‘don’t be late’ so many times it’s practically tattooed on my brain.” I smirk. “So yeah, I showed up.”
MJ gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like I just confessed a crime. “You make it sound like I’m demanding.”
“You are demanding,” I shoot back, laughing.
She huffs, then smiles that over-the-top MJ smile, her curls bouncing as she does a tiny twirl. “Well, it worked. You’re here and honestly, that’s the best present I could’ve asked for.”
Her dark eyes twinkle, mischief swirling in them as she leans close, her arm looping through mine. The music fades just enough for me to breathe again.
“Since I’m the best gift you’ve ever gotten,” I say, holding out the red keepsake I got her during my summer trip to Grammy’s. “I suppose you don’t need this either.”
MJ’s eyes widen the second she sees it, and she gasps dramatically. “Nancy! You..” She stops herself, biting back a smile. “You didn’t have to! It’s gorgeous.”
It’s not a big, shining diamond—her parents probably got her one of those but it’s memorable and worth every penny.
“You like it?” I ask, nervous laughter bubbling “I just—”
She snatches it from my hand before I can finish, clutching it like treasure. “Oh my gosh… Nancy, it’s beautiful! I love it!” She hugs me tight again, her fiery red hair brushing against my shoulder.
“This is… perfect, Nancy. Seriously, you’re ridiculous.”
I laugh, finally letting myself relax completely. “Ridiculous in a good way, I hope.”
She pulls back and grins. “What do you think?”
I blink. “About what?”
MJ throws her hands out dramatically. “The party, duh! I’ve been stressed planning this thing—you know how hard it is getting everyone to stick to the silver disco theme? Oh, and look at you, by the way—finally someone who understood the assignment.”
I snort. “You mean convincing people to wear shiny skirts and pretend it’s 1985 again?”
“Exactly!” she snaps her fingers, then spins in her heels, letting the disco lights bounce off her sequined dress. “But it turned out perfect, right? Tell me it’s perfect.”
Before I can answer, a guy in a glitter jacket slips on confetti near the dance floor, sending his drink flying straight into the chip bowl.
MJ throws her head back, laughing so hard she nearly spills her punch. “See? Even the disasters sparkle tonight.”
I shake my head, grinning. “Yeah,” I say, “it’s perfect.”
MJ smirks, tilting her head. “Come on… you need a drink.” She pulls me outside to the open backyard, now turned into a disco party. People are dancing in small groups, spinning under the string lights. Her blue dress sways with each step.
“Drinks? You mean lemonade? Fruit punch?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh… no,” she whispers, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I mean drinks… alcohol.”
I pull her to the side, lowering my voice. “How are you even able to sneak that in?” I glance around—her brother would kill her if he found out. MJ is holding back laughter, clutching her stomach.
“You should’ve seen your face,” she says, still laughing. “Of course I’m not drinking alcohol. I’ll probably not know what that stuff tastes like till I’m fifty! Credits to my brothers.”
We sashay through the crowd. Girls from our school shoot a wave and a happy birthday greeting at Macy.
“So, college students, huh?” I mutter, looking over at the crowd.
“The invitations might have ‘accidentally’ gone off course,” MJ says, smirking. “But you can’t blame me. I just turned sixteen—I’m practically a grown woman. I’m sick of high school boys; college boys are more fun to look at. Come see.” She nudges her head in the direction of the pool.
I glance over just in time to catch Justina, another graduate, kissing Aaron, a twelfth grader. They seem way into it, and my face heats.
“We shouldn’t be watching,” I whisper.
“It’s my party, Nance. Entertainment,” MJ replies, grinning.
“He’s practically eating her face!” I burst out laughing as they continue their little show.
“The question is… how did plain Aaron even score big with Justina? The math isn’t mathing,” I add.
MJ snickers. “I’ll tell you. Boobs.” She has her hands on her breasts, which look a tad bigger today; my eyes widen as I notice she’s wearing the push-up bra we bought from the mall two weeks ago.
“Did anyone say… boobs?” Johnny’s arm slams against mine as he staggers. Yeah, he’s drunk. Or nearly there. Johnny is Macy’s older brother, a year above us. Sweet guy, pain in MJ’s ass.
“Eww, get your hands off me!” MJ jumps away from him.
“Who the hell even comes to his sister’s birthday party? Get lost, Johnny.” MJ pulls me away from him.
“16 and still a brat,” he mumbles.
“You’re still a loser,” she taunts.
“Bug face!” he quips back.
I roll my eyes at Johnny. Isn’t it written somewhere in the sibling handbook? #1. Do not annoy your sister on her birthday.
“Am not!” she whines and then clears her throat. “But what I am is about to get my first kiss—with one of those college boys,” she adds, smacking her lips together and making exaggerated kissing noises. She looks at me, and we laugh.
I can practically see him choke on his own words as he stumbles backward.
“I thought you’d already had your first kiss.” I ask.
“Jamie in fourth grade doesn’t count. His breath smells like ass,”
“Whose breath smells like ass?” a deep voice cuts in, calm but amused.
I blink and turn. El Parker steps into the backyard like he’s part of the conversation by default. 6’4”, broad shoulders, messy blonde hair, gray-green eyes scanning the chaos around him as if he’s both interested and completely unfazed. My stomach tightens. Not in a crush way—but in a “wow, he’s big, tall, fine, and I have no idea how to talk to him” way.
He and Johnny are close; they both play on the basketball team, meaning I catch glimpses of him sometimes when I’m at Macy’s.
“Jamie,” MJ says, grinning.
“Jamie who?”
“The first guy MJ kissed. ” I supplied before I could stop myself.
“Please stop! MJ, you are not kissing anyone, over my dead body!” Johnny’s eyes bulge with anger as he jabs a finger at his sister.
“Bite me,” MJ snaps, dragging me away before Johnny can protest further. I stumble along, trying to keep up, and glance back to see a tall drink of water—Eli—standing there, watching the chaos unfold with that calm expression.
About thirty minutes have passed since the Jackie sibling standoff. Apparently, word spreads: no one is to come within three inches of MJ. Johnny’s orders.
Macy rolls her eyes beside me. I get it, bestie. Being sixteen and still getting babysat by your older brother on your birthday has to suck. I can practically hear her silently grumbling at the injustice.
We settle back on the edge of the dance floor, letting the thump of music wash over us. Colored lights flash across the backyard, bouncing off the pool water and the string lights above. I watch as some guys jump into the pool, make out in the pool. A lot is going on inside that pool.
Somewhere near the DJ booth, Anna—the school’s cheerleader—grabs the microphone, her voice cutting through the music.
“Chug! Chug! Chug!” she screams, pumping up the crowd. A guy hoists a massive drink and chugs it upside down, holding it for what feels like forever. The crowd goes wild, cheering and hooting. Party of the year, Macy.
“Ugh, Nance, can you believe this?” MJ groans, throwing her hands up. “Three inches? Three inches! My life’s reduced to three inches.” Her hands dig into the bag of M&Ms I snag from the kitchen, shoving a few in her mouth. I take one too, watching her continue to rant.
“It’s my birthday, and I can’t even breathe without him swooping in like some royal guard,” she huffs. “I mean… seriously, it’s my party! My party! And he’s acting like I’m five!” She pops another candy in her mouth, moaning quietly in satisfaction.
“And the worst part? Everyone actually obeys him!” She pouts, her dark doe eyes glinting under the party lights. “Please tell me I’m not the only one thinking this is completely ridiculous.”
“It’s stupid. He shouldn’t get to decide how you live your life or how your birthday plays out,” I reply. “Do whatever you want, girl.”
MJ leans closer, glancing around conspiratorially. “Seriously, I want to dance with a boy, talk to whoever I want, maybe even sneak a tiny sip of something,” she whispers. “And Johnny’s out here acting like I’m about to destroy the world.”
“I say we hide his jersey and dye it blue,” I suggest. She nearly snorts, laughter shaking her shoulders.
“Oh my gosh, Nance! Yes! That’s perfect! Imagine his face when he realizes his precious jersey is… blue!” She claps her hands, eyes sparkling with mischief.
We both freeze at a sudden cough. I look up and see McKenna, a senior on the football team, standing there with that stupidly charming grin, his messy dark hair falling in his eyes. He’s tall and broad-shouldered.
“Ladies, you look beautiful,” he charms, eyes glinting in the colored lights. “MJ, wanna dance?”
MJ frowns. “You want your hands cut off? My brother is—”
“Jack can suck my ass, he ain’t doing shit. Come on, you’re the birthday girl, and this is your party. He doesn’t get to decide what you do,” McKenna interrupts, holding out his hands.
MJ glances at me, her eyes spinning like the colored lights overhead. I mouth, “Go,” and she giggles, taking his hands. Together, they move to the dance floor, weaving between spinning bodies and swirling lights.
——————
I decide to head into the mansion, figuring I can finally use the restroom. I creep down the hallway, praying it’s empty.
Nope.
Each room I peek into is… well, occupied. Couples tangled on couches, hands everywhere, lips everywhere. Hard reminder that this doesn’t look like your average sixteenth birthday party anymore—more like a frat disco gone wild. The cleaners are in for a hell of a ride tomorrow morning.
I shuffle down the hall carefully, trying to blend into the wallpaper, desperate not to bump into anyone—or worse, accidentally walk in on something scarring.
The air smells like perfume, sweat, and spilled soda. The bass from the speakers thumps so loud it’s impossible to think.
“Of course,” I mutter under my breath. “Of course every room is a make-out hotspot.”
Finally, I spot a half-open guest bathroom at the end of the hall. I slip inside, closing the door behind me and exhaling like I just survived a warzone. My heart races, my cheeks flush.
Then I turn and freeze by the bathroom door.
It’s not empty.
Eli leans against the counter, cigarette smoke curling lazily around him, the faint orange glow catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the blond sweep of his hair. It’s straight out of a movie scene but better. Nothing I’ve watched comes close to this. Not Top Gun, not that one slow-motion beach run where everyone gasps. Why? Because this is real, and he has a face impossible to look away from.
The bathroom smells faintly of smoke, sharp and mixing with the lingering scent of soap.
The girl on the sink presses close, knees hooked around his hips, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. She looks older, college-level.
He exhales slowly, eyes half-lidded, and offers her the cigarette. She takes a drag, lips brushing the tip, then leans in. I can’t look away. The way he moves, the control he has with one hand around her hips. The way she melts into him. It’s hot.
I press my hands lightly against the doorframe, gripping it just enough to steady myself. My chest tightens, a small gulp escaping me, but I stay quiet. I shouldn’t be here, and yet I can’t leave.
The kiss that follows is nothing like the kind I’ve seen in movies. It’s rough. Devouring. Like he’s trying to taste the air she’s breathing. Her soft gasp breaks against his mouth, and the sound ripples through me.
The room feels smaller. Heavier. My breath catches as if the smoke wraps itself around me too.
Eli tilts his head, deepening the kiss. The counter creaks. His hand slides up the girl’s back, and I realize I should look away—I need to look away—but I can’t.
Then his eyes open mid-kiss. And they find me. For a heartbeat, everything stops—the smoke, my pulse. His expression flickers from surprise to something unreadable.
“Shit,” I catch him muttering.
“I—uh—sorry,” I manage to whisper, my throat dry as I scramble for the door handle. My heart hammers so hard I can barely breathe when I finally step out into the hallway. Just in time to see MJ kissing McKenna over at the firepit.
As if on cue—
“McKenna, you piss-off shit!!” Johnny’s voice booms in anger over the music. He pulls his hoodie over his head and prances over to where they are. Well… happy birthday, MJ!
